


Once

by Laura JV (jacquez)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquez/pseuds/Laura%20JV
Summary: Skinner remembers an important event in his relationship with Agent Spender.  Slash.





	Once

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Once by Laura Jacquez Valentine

This is for Drovar, 'cause I said I would and I meant it.  
Title: Once  
Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine ()  
Spoilers: up to Season Six, including S.R. 819, Two Fathers, One Son  
Rating: NC-17  
Codes: Sk/Sp  
Archive: Archive/X, Gossamer, Ferret Cage  
Summary: Skinner remembers an important event in his relationship with Agent Spender. Slash.   
Disclaimer: FOX. 1013. CC. Not me.

* * *

I'm drinking in my office, which I shouldn't, and grieving, which I have even less call to do. It wasn't love between us, and I shouldn't feel like this. He wasn't the one I thought I wanted, but perhaps I was wrong.

Certainly he was attractive: wry mouth, sulky eyes, the faintest hint of aftershave. But he was not Mulder, although they were alike enough to be cousins. Or brothers.

Agent Jeffrey Spender, who once drove me to madness on a cool autumn evening.

I find I am already thinking of him as dead, although he was alive when the ambulance got here.

I knew he was working with that smoking bastard. I didn't know until recently--when Mulder told me--that he was the smoking bastard's son. The kid never had a chance, and my anger--my anger was, perhaps, misplaced.

But I was angry, make no mistake, when I went down to his office late one night in November. Diana Fowley had gone home hours ago; the building was quiet. He was alone, and he had gotten Mulder in trouble--again--with A.D. Kersh.

I stood in the door of the office, watching him as he worked. He looked tired, and very young, his sleeves rolled up, his tie untied and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. The computer screen cast an eerie glow over him in the dark office, and I felt the first stirrings of lust within my anger. I squelched them ruthlessly, telling myself it was only because he looked so much like Mulder just then--

And he turned and saw me, and frowned slightly. "Sir?"

"Agent Spender."

He stood, flexed his shoulders and walked towards me. "You want to see me, sir?"

I watched him until he stood just within my reach. "Let me be perfectly clear, Agent Spender. You will not have any contact with Agents Mulder or Scully, and you will stop your little vendetta--"

"Sir, with all due respect, Agent Mulder was--"

I threw him into the wall, pressed him into it with my body. He was almost exactly my height, but slender. I tangled my fingers into his hair and bounced his head on the wall--not too hard, just enough to hurt--and whispered "Am I clear, Agent?"

He struggled, and I captured his hands between our bodies. "Am I clear, Agent?"

"Crystal," he hissed, and twisted in my grasp. I slammed into him with a hip and held him tightly against the wall, waiting. I wanted--needed--him to submit to me. I was sick of the games everyone was playing, sick of walking on the edge of death because these motherfuckers wanted God knows what--

He was still fighting me, and I thought of the times Mulder had fought me. There was one important difference. Mulder had never been aroused by the struggle. Spender was hard and I could feel it and knew I could have him if I wanted--and I wanted. His erection was not the only one trapped between us.

I released his hands and stroked his cock through the fabric. He gasped, a sharp sound, sharp as his hiss against my ear, but with a different meaning. I bounced his head again, but more gently, and loosened my fingers slightly. Backed off a little, so that he was leaning against the wall but not pressed into it.

He didn't move. I continued to stroke him, felt his cock twitch, felt him press harder against my hand. And he moaned, softly, a heartwrenching sound. I pulled him to me and kissed him, fury and desire and tenderness compressing my chest until he wrapped an arm around my waist and answered the kiss passionately.

I stepped back and looked at him. Those hooded eyes were clear, the pupils dilated with lust; that mouth swollen. He was trembling slightly but his voice was very steady when he spoke. "Please. It's been so long." He reached out and hooked a finger in one of my belt loops. "Just one good hard fuck, Skinner. That's all I want."

\---

One good hard fuck. That's all it was, all there was between us. Except that now I find I'm staring out my window remembering how he felt beneath me, his skin slick with sweat, his fingers digging into my back.

We'd gone to his apartment, a tiny place not far from work. I think, now, that his father must have wanted him close by. I didn't know then what I do now.

It was clean, and he had a tank full of fish. Like Mulder, I thought, only these were damn expensive fish--and well-cared for, it seemed. Mulder's fish were cheap and always looked as though they'd just come off a bender.

He offered me a drink, which I declined, and then he wound himself around me, his cock pressing into my side, his mouth fierce against mine. There was no fear in him, no uneasiness--just simple need.

Need can be the most erotic thing in the world.

We stumbled to the bedroom, stripped, tangled our bodies together on the bed. He took lube and condoms from a drawer and handed them to me. There was little of love in this, and I prepared him quickly, scarcely remembering to care for his pleasure. He didn't seem to mind, and when I began to fuck him he rocked against me, locked his legs around me and begged softly for more. 

I kissed him to shut him up and he came, covering both of us in his semen. I followed him over that edge a few seconds later.

Then I cleaned us both up and left. He was asleep before I finished dressing.

We never spoke of it.

I'm still staring out the window, thinking Walt, you idiot, you thought it was Mulder you wanted, and it wasn't.

The phone rings, and I answer it. "Skinner."

"Sir, it's me."

"Yes, Agent Mulder?"

"I thought you'd like to know, sir, that Agent Spender will live."

\----

The End.


End file.
